


one man's comfort

by weatheredlaw



Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 08:44:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1504106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatheredlaw/pseuds/weatheredlaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because it always ends the same. Another comfort, if he thinks about it. You could divide Seth's life up into those two places -- comfortable, disaster. </p><p>Well, maybe you could once, a few years back. Not these days. Not anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	one man's comfort

He turns to him in the deafening silence of the car and says, "You want a handjob or don't you?" and Richie doesn't answer. "Look, don't make me ask--"

"Front or back?"

Seth stares, sorting through the words, everything sound like there's a pause between each one. "What kind of freak gets a handjob in the front seat? The back, dipshit, let's go."

 

 

 

Thirty seconds in, and Seth can't take it anymore.

"If you're gonna make that face, I'm not gonna do it."

"I'm not making a face, this is just my face."

"No, it's _a_ face. And it's a _face_ I don't like. So stop it." Seth points to Richie's belt. " _Quit_ the face and undo the belt. You know what, forget it, I'll just look past you. God damn moonlight's fuckin' beautiful."

Richie makes a noise in his throat like he's amused, but the belt comes undone anyway and his face stays exactly the same. Everything with Richie is either exactly the same or completely different -- Seth doesn't know sometimes whether to be comforted or terrified, but right here's a good place to go back to. This kind of established, 'scratch your back you scratch mine' but with hands on dicks and his face buried in Richie's neck. 

Because it always ends the same. Another comfort, if he thinks about it. You could divide his life up into those two places -- comfortable, disaster. 

Well, maybe you could once, a few years back. Not these days. Not anymore.

 

 

 

It always ends with Richie's mouth on his dick, and maybe that's the final comfort. One kind of predictable, last hurrah. Handjobs in the car always end with blow jobs and Seth always coming quicker than he means to because it's always been longer than it should have been. Every time. 

Richie wipes his god damn mouth with a _napkin_ , because some shit just never changes. Seth's sunk low in the backseat of the car, watching his brother, but also not, also taking in a good thirty seconds of not moving. Feels good not to move. Feels like home, a little bit. 

"We should get back on the road," Richie says, straightening his suit. He looks stupid in it. They both look stupid, Seth wants to say. Like they're trying to kid themselves into thinking they're some kind of fucking professional outfit here, like robbing banks is a genuine career choice. He looks into his lap and scowls.

"Fucking -- you fucking came on my pants, you dick." 

Richie makes a face, the way he does when he's not interested in talking about the physical aftermath of the shit they do. "It's water-based."

"Don't even. Just fucking don't. Whatever." Seth crawls back into the front and rubs at his pants. "Can't have anything nice with you, can I?"

Richie gets back into the passenger seat, buckling up before saying clearly, "We're not allowed to have nice things." Put that shit down in the bible, Seth thinks. Get a fucking t-shirt with those words on it. 

The engine roars to life and Seth shakes his head. "Brother, don't I know it."


End file.
